


It's Not Easy Being Green

by Grundy



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Gen, just after Impression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: Mirrim reacts to the unexpected turn her life has just taken.
Relationships: Menolly & Mirrim (Dragonriders of Pern), Mirrim & Path (Dragonriders of Pern)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	It's Not Easy Being Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narya (Narya_Flame)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/gifts).



It was not until later that it really started to sink in for Mirrim. Until Path had been fed, bathed, oiled and they were led to the weyr assigned to them – not the weyrling barracks like everyone else, because Weylingmaster T’sum had kept his head if no one else had and declared he wasn’t about to throw her into the barracks with a bunch of craft- and holdbred boys – she didn’t really have time to think about what had happened.

There was Path, and there was what Path needed, and Mirrim didn’t have a moment to think about anything else until she found herself looking around the weyr that was now hers and Path’s in bemusement. That was when it all caught up with her.

_She’s a dragonrider now._

And not a queenrider. A green rider. The first girl to impress a fighting dragon. And… well, she didn’t really want to think beyond that at the moment. That was more than enough to be going on with. Whatever path she’d thought her life was on had just taking so sharp a turning she couldn’t even see where she had expected to go anymore.

She thought back over Impression. It was no less surprising to her now than it had been in the moment.

It didn’t take a Harper to work out that once F’lar and Lessa were able to see anything past Felessan and his bronze, she was going to be in trouble. T’sum had kept his questions short and to the point before leaving her to settle in, but she knew he wouldn’t be the only one who had them. If she was lucky, it would be F’lar doing the asking, not Lessa.

Her only consolation was her clean conscience – unlike Felessan (and probably most of the other weyrbred candidates), she’d never been in the Hatching Ground when she shouldn’t have been. She hadn’t handled the eggs, or been anywhere near them, for that matter. She hadn’t even snuck in to have an illicit look at them like all weyrkids used to do when she was little, and had probably continued doing right up until Jaxom and Felessan had inadvertently clued Lessa in on the existance of the peephole.

Well, almost her only consolation. There was also Path.

The sleeping green was _perfect_ , from her delicate wingtips to her tiny talons, all in a rich, jewel-like shade that other greens could only envy. Mirrim could put up with just about anything the Weyrleaders cared to throw at her – they couldn’t very well banish her from the Weyr – for Path’s sake.

Reppa and Lok had curled up with Path. The couch meant for a full-size dragon made Path impossibly small, and the fire lizards tinier still. (Mirrim tried to fix the image in her mind, keenly aware that in a few months’ time it would seem impossible that Path had ever been so little.) While the two fire lizards looked quite cozy, their eyes gave away that they were still awake and keeping watch over the hatchling.

Tolly landed on her shoulder with an inquisitive sound.

He was hungry, for her fire lizards hadn’t been about to take food meant for hatchlings. Quick as they otherwise were to pounce on food, they were protective of the newly hatched.

Mirrim sighed.

Usually new riders were free to join the Hatching Feast once their dragons were settled, and most were eager to do so. She wasn’t too sure that was a good idea in her case even if T’sum hadn’t actually told her she couldn’t. She had no idea what the rest of the Hatching Ground thought about what had happened, and unlike Menolly she’s not someone who always has the right words for a situation.

Better to stay in her weyr, where at least she can’t accidentally make things any worse. Besides, someone else had moved her things from what used to be her room, so she had several crates to unpack. Might as well make a start.

Tolly wasn’t the only one out of sorts by the time she heard the approaching footsteps – her stomach was grumbling as loudly as his. It really didn’t help that she’d had a hand in planning and prepping for the Feast, so she knew full well what she was missing out on!

She braced herself, not sure who to expect. She hoped it might be Brekke or F’nor, somehow snatching a moment or two despite how busy they must be. She desperately wanted it to be someone who would be on her side.

To her surprise, it turned out to be Menolly, bearing a laden tray. Reppa and Lok perked up at the sight, and Tolly chirped hopefully.

“What are you _doing_?” Mirrim demanded. “Do you even have time to be in here?”

She regretted the words almost as she said them, because they sounded much worse than she meant them. She was relieved to see her friend. It was just that as reassuring though it was to see her in here, Menolly would be far more use out there, using her clever songs to convince everyone that a girl impressing a green wasn’t a sign the Red Star was about to crash into Pern or something equally stupid!

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Menolly laughed. “Making sure you and these three get some food in you before you’re tempted to start taking bites out of each other! Sit down and eat before you fall over – or are you going to try to convince me your breakfast wasn’t sometime before daybreak and you haven’t had anything since?”

Under Menolly’s knowing look, Mirrim wilted.

“Thanks,” she muttered, trying her best not to snatch like a hatchling at the delicious smelling tray.

Once she had taken more than a few bites, she realized to her delight that Menolly had taken the care to make sure she had all her favorites – the spicy roast wherry done just so, mashed tubers with the baked over crust that Sandra still won’t give up the exact recipe for to anyone else, and of course the desserts that the pastry cook always outdoes herself with for Hatchings. Menolly had managed to get a sampling of desserts, and how she’d made it all the way to the riders’ weyrs without having any of them appropriated by someone else was a mystery.

“But really,” Mirrim said some time later, over dessert, doing her best not to let the custard from the redfruit compote run down her face like a weyrbrat who hadn’t learned manners, “are you supposed to be here? I don’t want you to get in trouble with the Masterharper! Aren’t you on duty or something? Especially now?”

She hoped Menolly would hear the unspoken apology, because she knew perfectly well the Harperfolk would have had a much easier and more enjoyable time today without her and Path complicating things.

“I don’t think I’ll be missed for a bit,” Menolly shrugged. “And anyway, we’ve already put it about that you swore blind you hadn’t touched the eggs. Most people seem to be taking it in stride. The reactions are largely along the lines of ‘good on her’, and the few that aren’t are nothing to worry about.”

“Most people are dimglows,” Mirrim snorted.

Anyone could see this was something to worry about!

“Most people have more pressing concerns,” Menolly corrected gently. “And you’re weyrbred, so most of the holders and crafters see it as Weyr business anyway. They got used to a girl Harper, they’ll get used to a girl in the fighting wings. At least, they will when you get that far. It’s still a turn or more off, and it wouldn’t surprise me if T’sum keeps you in training longer than most.”

“Why? Path and I will be as good as any other pair!” Mirrim flared indignantly.

She’d expected second-guessing, but not from Menolly!

“Of course you will! But he’ll want to make sure you’re not just ‘as good’ – he’ll want you to be better. He won’t want you getting injured in your first Fall in case it leads to grumbling about girls not cutting it as fighting riders. Or worse, everyone asking him what he did wrong…”

At the sparkle in Menolly’s eyes, Mirrim couldn’t help but laugh.

The idea that anyone could fault T’sum, who’d been F’lar’s own wingsecond until he was asked to take over as Weyrlingmaster because F’lar and Lessa weren’t satisfied with the shape of new rider training under L’sel, was patently ridiculous.

“You really think it’s going to be that easy?” Mirrim asked, trying not to sound anxious.

“I’m sure there will be ups and downs,” Menolly said thoughtfully. “There certainly were for me. But I think you’ll get through them. Besides, there’s no arguing with the dragon’s choice, right?”

“Right,” Mirrim sighed.

“Try that again?” Menolly suggested. “This time with a little more feeling?”

“Right!” Mirrim shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth lest she wake her sleeping dragon.

“That’s more like it,” Menolly grinned. “Look on the bright side, it won’t be all that long before you’ll be able to pop in to commiserate with me whenever you want.”

“Ha! You don’t need commiseration these days from what I hear,” Mirrim shot back. “You need someone to beat off the lovesick Holder boys with a stick.”

“Beauty is pretty good at making sure they all behave themselves,” Menolly said, though she didn’t laugh as Mirrim had hoped. “Though I can’t say I don’t have a few worries.”

“Oh?”

Mirrim gave her friend the look that nearly always led to Menolly spilling whatever she was trying to hold back. The only time it hadn’t worked was when Menolly first arrived in Benden Weyr with her feet run raw and had been more worried about protecting her fire lizards than anything else.

“Beauty’s old enough to fly soon,” Menolly said pensively.

“Ohhhh,” Mirrim said in sudden comprehension.

There were enough firelizards around these days, many of them attached to people of rank, that she could understand Menolly’s unease. Unfortunately for Menolly, her fair were all clutchmates – which meant Rocky and Diver wouldn’t try to mate Beauty. Not to mention, Menolly was holder-bred. It was a little different for her than it would be for the weyrbred, who’d all grown up with the reality of dragon mating flights.

Which, she realized, was something she didn’t particularly want to think about right now. One day at a time…

“I hope for your sake you don’t end up with Lord Groghe,” she said as solemnly as she could manage.

Menolly looked completely appalled for two whole seconds before Mirrim couldn’t keep a straight face and started laughing uncontrollably. Menolly tried to look offended, but ended up laughing nearly as hard.

“Thank you for that terrifying image, I may never get it out of my head again,” Menolly gasped. “It was so awful it took me a moment to remember he’s only got a queen.”

“It could have been worse,” Mirrim pointed out impishly. “I could have said Lord Raid.”

Menolly gave a mock shudder.

“You’re right, that’s worse!”

“Who were you worried about? Really?”

“Take your pick – only half a dozen of Lord Groghe’s sons have bronzes or browns now. And as often as I’m out and about, it could easily end up being any of the worthies of Pern who managed to keep a firelizard. Lord Tillek’s son, Lord Larad’s lady, Lord Asgenar…”

“Jaxom?” Mirrim suggested with a giggle.

Privately, she thought Menolly’s real worry might be the Masterharper himself, who had a bronze and was in Menolly’s vicinity as often as not. But if her friend didn’t want to admit that, she wasn’t about to push. Maybe yesterday she might have, but she couldn’t bear even the thought of a quarrel just now.

Menolly snorted.

“He doesn’t have a firelizard, does he? Ruth may be small, but he’s still very much a dragon! And good thing, too – Jaxom’s too young. Lord Lytol would have my guts for gitar strings.”

“I don’t think Lytol knows that much about instruments. Anyway, you should make sure you’re around someone you don’t object to when it happens,” Mirrim pointed out. “Leave whoever belongs to the lucky bronze to fend for himself. Or herself.”

“If I know in time,” Menolly sighed. “I can’t be sure of having a dragon on hand to run me here and there.”

“Find an excuse to spend time around someone appropriate, then,” Mirrim said practically. “You’re a Journeywoman, aren’t you supposed to spend time outside the Hall? Come visit the Weyr for a while. There’s enough riders with firelizards…and none of the holder hangups about mating flights. No one will take it to mean anything more than that.”

“We’ll see,” was all Menolly was willing to say, though the way she had brightened at the suggestion meant she was seriously considering it. “Anyway, do you feel more like yourself now that you’ve eaten and sorted out someone else’s problems? You had a face like a wet turn when I walked in. Not exactly what anyone expects to see on a newly Impressed rider…”

The wry smile took any sting out of Menolly’s words.

“Yes, now you mention it,” Mirrim replied. “I think the food helped more than the problem, but if I get mopey again, I’ll borrow your little friend Piemur. He must have a problem or two I can help with.”

“I’ll only send Piemur to you if he’s done something terrible,” Menolly laughed. “He was intimidated enough before you had a dragon!”

“That kid’s not intimidated by anyone or anything,” Mirrim snorted.

“I’ll grant you he’s got bravado enough for a wing of bronze weyrlings, but he’s not quite as fearless as you make him sound,” Menolly sighed. “Do you feel like coming out to the feast to mingle for a bit before we’re off back to the Hall, or would you rather get some sleep while everyone else is still distracted? If dragon hatchlings are anything like fire lizard hatchlings, Path’s going to wake up convinced there’s no food left in the world in about four hours’ time.”

“With dragons, I think it’s more like six, and I might add I only have _one_ dragon to feed. I still don’t know how you managed nine of those greedyguts freshly out of the shell by yourself without being driven _between_.”

“Fine, six hours. It’s still the same question - feast or sleep?”

Mirrim would have loved to dare the feast. But unlike most of the newly impressed riders, particularly the ones Felessan’s age, she knew how precious chances to sleep uninterrupted were going to be over the next few weeks. Even if Path were inclined to let her rider sleep, the dragon’s hunger would still wake her.

T’sum would give the other new riders an hour or two at the feast before he chased them off to bed so they wouldn’t be completely useless when it was time for the dragons’ next feeding. Most of them would probably grumble and stay up another few hours talking, even the weyrbred ones who ought to know better, then be bleary-eyed wrecks when their dragons rousted them with empty, empty stomachs. 

She grinned.

“Sleep!”

Menolly smiled and turned to go, but Mirrim caught her hand.

“Thank you,” she said, doing her best to put everything she meant into the words.

Menolly grinned.

“You’re welcome. I’ll come visit again as soon as I can. In the meantime, you can always send me notes with Tolly. I’ll find a way to get here if you need someone to sound off to.”

“Thank you,” Mirrim repeated, this time hugging her.

Menolly laughed before she gently pulled away and gave Mirrim a shove in the direction of the rider’s sleeping quarters.

As Mirrim curled up on the bed – bigger and more comfortable than the one in the room that had been hers until this afternoon – she reflected that she and Menolly were going to either end up driving each other _between_ or end up better friends than ever after this.

Her last thought before dropping off to sleep was that next time Menolly came to visit, she had to be properly introduced to Path.

**Author's Note:**

> It started out just Mirrim watching Path and thinking, but midway through Menolly wandered in unannounced, surprising me just as much as she did Mirrim. Hope you don't mind her, Narya!


End file.
